Crystals and Glitterbabies
by UndergroundValentine
Summary: Labyrinth has always been one of his favorite movies. But when he snuggles down and falls asleep half way through, it's not exactly a comforting thing to wake up to a Goblin King lying on top of you... -Warning: Crack pairing; AdamXJareth-


It's easy to say that he is exhausted beyond all measure. He's just now rolling in from the Vancouver show, and needless to say, he really just wants to sit and relax. Yes, he's high off of awesome and alcohol right about now, but c'mon, he's got a pretty fucking full schedule ahead of him here. He's got Idol on Tuesday and Wednesday, not to mention press, media, and the GLAAD Awards next weekend. He needs his lemon tea with honey, a good movie, and the Snuggie that one of his fans so kindly sent to him through the band's PO box sometime a month ago. Shut up, that Snuggie is fucking comfortable.

Kicking off his boots, Adam sighs as his feet sink into the squishy front door rug. Sometimes he'll stand here for a good five or ten minutes and just let his feet enjoy the cloud-like comfort, but he's too exhausted to spend more than ten seconds here, and he strips out of his jacket as he turns left and walks down a hall towards his bedroom. The hardwood floors are cold to his blistered feet (oh the prices to pay when wearing boots, but it's getting better, he's just gotta break those puppies in), and he pushes open the door, turning on the light switch.

His room is simple, not as neat as he would like it, but whatever. His king sized bed is pushed up against the south wall with a wrought iron headboard and foot, silky lavender sheets and comforters tousled around the mattress a little; the result of his haste to leave and make everything look semi-nice. His dresser is on the north wall, facing the foot of his bed. There's a couple of articles of clothes strewn on the floor and there's a closet to his left, embedded into the west wall. In the southwest corner is a small table with a stereo, the drawer tucked in neatly and locked; that's his private drawer for special occasions. _Very_ special occasions.

Adam strips out of his sweaty clothes, exhaling as he crosses to the dresser, nude. He's the only one home right now, so he doesn't care that his door is open. He pulls open the top drawer, ripping out fresh pajama pants (he doesn't wear boxers when he's at home, and rarely he wears them out and about). He dips his feet into the openings, pulling them up to his hips and letting them hang, tying the draw-string just enough that they won't fall. They're simple, flannel black that fade to grey at the bottom. Cassidy made them as a Christmas present a year ago, and he wears them religiously.

Adam shuts the drawer and leaves his room in silence, padding down the hall and to the small closet next to the bathroom. He opens the door and reaches inside, pulling out the Snuggie, a black fleece with a giant red heart sewn into the middle, his name embroidered in the center of said heart. It's a nice thought and he appreciates it, but sometimes he feels a little awkward owning something with his name in cursive stitching in a giant red heart. But he's not complaining in all reality.

Snuggie tucked over one arm, he walks into the living room, placing it on the back of the couch as he walks over to the DVD shelf, plucking a familiar movie down and opening the case. He smiles to himself as he kneels down and pops it into the player, turning on the TV and setting it to the right channel. He stands up again and considers just going over the couch and getting comfortable, but he might get thirsty. Sighing softly, Adam walks around a small corner and into the kitchen, padding over to the counter and checking for tea bags. Nothing. Awesome. He crosses to the fridge and opens the door slowly. He takes a peek inside, seeing a bottle of Snapple Green Tea, but no lemon with honey. He's not really a fan, but it'll have to do. Snatching the bottle, he shuts the door and returns to his Snuggie and couch, both of which seem to be beckoning his weary being. He sets the bottle down on the table and wraps himself up in his Snuggie, flopping down on the couch and letting out a long, aching sigh.

Nothing's more perfect than this; tea, a warm Snuggie, and a fucking fantastic movie. Which movie? _Labyrinth_, of course. Adam smiles to himself as he curls and faces the TV, mouthing the ever cheesy and familiar words that he's learned by heart since he was a child. He remembers crushing on Jennifer Connelly as a young boy. He thought she was a pretty lady. She still is. Sad, he's been famous for a little while, met incredible people, and he's still never met Jennifer. Or Bowie, for that matter. Damnit!

Oh well. That's for the future, he knows. He may or may not get that opportunity later in life. For now, he's set on the present. He's comfortable as fuck right now, and he's watching a classic. Yay.

Adam doesn't remember falling asleep. In fact, he doesn't remember a lot of things. But there are some things that he does remember. He remembers snuggling up, drinking some tea, and even singing along as he watched David Bowie prance around a throne room serenading a two year old. But he must have dozed. Because it seems like he blinked and everything changed.

First off, the lights are out, the movie is off. Okay. There's lightening flashing outside and rain pounding on the windows. Not necessarily a natural occurrence for Los Angeles, but one he can deal with. He's not unfamiliar with this type of weather, so it's okay. But there's something amiss. Something that makes him question whether or not he's actually awake right now. Because this isn't really happening. It can't be happening. As much as he's wished since his childhood for something like this, it's never happened before.

But all the same, why is there a Goblin King smirking down at him?

Adam doesn't move, he barely breathes, but he stares. He stares long and hard, studying the playful locks of streaked blond hair. The curves of the face and the quirk of a smile (a smile, mind you, that Adam has spent years mastering and making his own, because that's how cool he is). The neat arrangement of a puffy white shirt clung tight to a well built frame with a leather vest and pants too tight even for Adam's comfort. Elegant, black leather boots, leather gloves synched tight and smooth, and those _eyes_. Those God-forsaken _eyes_.

Adam blinks, expecting the figure of fantasy to disappear, but he doesn't. In fact, the King seems to move even closer. Adam can feel the cool breath (that smells oddly of peaches) kissing his face. He wiggles into a more sitting position, drawing his Snuggie tighter around him. He has faint hope that the fleece material will save him from whatever this fictional character has in store. But he shouldn't even _be_ here! He doesn't _exist_!

"On the contrary, I do, in fact, exist." The King says, his smirk becoming more seductive than before. Adam can't stifle the small whimper. Oh, so he reads thoughts too? Fan-fucking-tastic.

"What— how— who…" Adam can't manage more than one word questions of sentences he wishes he could finish. The man smirks, his mismatched eyes glittering with a mischievous secret. Adam wiggles farther away, and the leather clad character shifts forward, almost straddling Adam's legs as he moves closer still.

"You know very well who I am, Adam." He whispers, his eyes never leaving Adam's face as he pulls himself closer still. This is weird, this is really fucking weird. Adam's sitting alone in his apartment and now the motherfucking Goblin King, Jareth, is leaning over him, whispering in his ear and smelling like peaches! Is he hallucinating? What the hell was in his tea?

"Nothing was in the tea, Adam. And you're not hallucinating. This is all very real. Now relax…" Jareth bends his head down, pressing his warm lips to the side of Adam's neck. Chills race across of his skin and Adam doesn't try to stop the soft moan that pours off his tongue. Gloved fingers trail, peeling away the Snuggie as if it's nothing at all. Adam's eyes flutter and he sees his Snuggie being tossed to the floor, and he gasps. Crap! Pressing his hands to Jareth's chest, Adam shoves hard, surprised when the King doesn't budge more than a few inches without a rough tug against the back of his head. Oh, the character's holding onto his hair. When the hell did he grab Adam's hair? What's going on? Where's Tommy—

"Shh, forget about Tommy…" Jareth whispers into Adam's skin, pulling on his hair, and Adam whines. No, where's his Glitterbaby? Why is this happening? How is it happening?

"It's happening because you wished for it." No he didn't. Adam knows he didn't. He's made wishes over _Labyrinth_ before, but never once to be seduced by Bowie in leather. What the fuck _is this_? Jareth smiles and bites the exposed flesh of Adam's neck and the glam-star clenches his hands into fists at his sides, his eyes rolling into the back of his head at pleasure. Just as Tommy likes his hair being pulled, Adam _loves_ being bitten. It sends amazing jolts of ecstasy through his body, and it usually stays like that for long periods of time, depending on the bite.

But there's something about this fictional character (he's not believing this to be real, he's _not_) biting him that sends more than ecstasy through him. It sets his body on fire, and he's writhing beneath the king. This is ridiculous. It's a dream, it has to be. Kind of sad how he's getting turned on from a dream. But it's not like it hasn't happened before. It's just really strange how it's a childhood icon turning him on. Ugh, not cool. So not cool.

One of Jareth's hands slips down, traveling slowly along Adam's ribs, crossing over his ribs and resting against the inside of his thigh, but not _quite_ touching him _there_. But it's close enough that Adam moans again, unclenching one of his fists and placing it over Jareth's hand, pushing him closer until he _is_ touching Adam, and now everything feels better.

Part of him is screaming and setting of bells in his head that this is all wrong and that it's not really happening. Because, c'mon, this is _Jareth_ the fucking _Goblin King_ we're talking about here. This is just a really, really, _really fucked up_ dream that he's having right now. Not to mention he's getting excited about it, _God!_ But another part is saying to just enjoy, go along the ride. If it's a dream, so be it. If it's real… Well… cheers to a now interesting reality.

Jareth's fingers curl and grip Adam tightly, and the singer bucks up into the king, shivering violently as their lips crash and mold together with invisible glue. It's a good thing he's gay, otherwise this would be really fucking awkward. Not to mention weird; hello? A straight man making out and being touched by another dude? Can we say 'awkward' a little louder, yes? But Adam's not straight. He's bent, curved, not-straight. He's so fabulous he's almost a woman.

But it's still awkward, because he's making out with a person he's idolized since his childhood. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Adam's hands grip the king's shoulders and he shoves. He can't let this continue, even if it's a dream. He needs to wake up, and he needs to wake up now. Jareth slips back, crashing against the opposite side of the couch as Adam fumbles to get off the couch and flee. However, his attempted escape fails as the blond king grabs his ankle and pulls him back. Ack! With the blond king of the Labyrinth pinning him to the couch at his shoulders, his legs straddling the singer's hips, Adam can't do anything but stare up in fear and awe. Jareth grins seductively, his eyes gleaming.

"Just let it happen…" He whispers to Adam, and the singer feels his heart stop. Oh, God… This is really happening. But it can't! This is his dream, or reality… whatever! Adam glances around, looking for anything, thinking of anything. Anything to use, to do, to say—

To say. Fantastic! Adam smiles defiantly up at the king, his eyes swimming with victory.

"You have no power of me." He feels confident in his words. He means it. There's only one person who has power over what Adam does, and sadly, he's not here. Adam stares into Jareth's eyes, waiting for him to disappear. Just waiting, holding out for that moment where he fades away and Adam will wake up to find his Glitterbaby next to him. This is all just a really, really fucked up dream anyway… right? Oh God, please let this be a dream…

The king leans down beside Adam's ear. "Nice try." He says, and, closing his eyes, Adam screams.

_Adam!_

The singer opens his eyes again, panting and shaking and staring all around. The lights are on. He's still in his Snuggie. His tea is half gone on the table. The movie is over. And instead of some blond, mismatched eyed king hovering over him, Tommy is staring with worry at Adam's face, his calloused fingers smoothing his hair out. Whimpering, he reaches out for Tommy and pulls the bassist closer to him, burying his face in the smaller man's chest. He smells like cigarettes and Tommy. Not peaches. Not kings from the 1980's. Like Tommy.

Thank fuck.

"Adam, baby, what's wrong? Why are you shaking?" Tommy asks him softly, stroking his hair as Adam desperately tries to regain his composure. But how does he explain this to Tommy? '_Oh, it's nothing, I just dreamt that a fictional character from the 80's was seducing me, no biggie_'. Yeah right.

"Bad dream…" He says. He doesn't want to go back to sleep after this. He won't go to sleep after this. It's funny, he slept like a baby after Nightmare on Elm Street, but _this_? Fuck it.

"Oh, honey… You sound like a five year old." Tommy jokes and Adam pokes him in revenge. The bassist laughs and stands up, holding his hand out to Adam.

"C'mon, Baby Boy, let's go to bed." Adam freezes, staring at the blond. Fuck. No.

"Nah, I think I'll stay up late tonight. I'm not tired." He lies. He's really fucking tired, but he doesn't want to go back to sleep after this.

"Liar. I can see the bags under your eyes. C'mon." Tommy says, grabbing Adam's hands.

"Noo!" He whines, pulling away. Tommy sighs, kneeling down with a very beautiful, passive face.

"Please, Baby Boy? Do as I say, and I will be your slave." He offers with his best impression of Bowie's voice, his eyelashes fanning over his cheeks as he blinks and looks up at Adam, who can do nothing more but stare wide eyed in fear.


End file.
